Blackness
by HaraKumiko
Summary: So many things were wrong in this war. Ironically, the thing most wrong was the only thing that felt right. Sniper/Tentaspy, oneshot.


A/N: Hey, guys! I write stuff other than drama from a Scout's point of view - I write _magical_ drama from a _Sniper's_ point of view! I wrote this... a while ago. It's up on my dA, but I decided to go ahead and share it with the crowd, after a little editing.  
I have trouble writing the word "tentacles", too.

* * *

I thought he was ours at first; our previous Spy had died just recently, and he had showed up a few days afterward, so it seemed obvious that he was our replacement at the time. Sitting at the end of the dock, watching the water, he didn't have his mask on. This was common with our Spies; they didn't like wearing masks outside of battle. His hair was longer than what I'd usually seen from people in his profession, completely covering the back of his neck, and colored a deep brown, just barely a shade lighter than my own.  
He moved as I approached, making room for me to sit as he fished a cigarette from his silver case. He heard me coming; no surprise there. "You just come in?" I asked in greeting, taking a seat. It was cloudy enough outside that I didn't need my hat or glasses, but I kept my kukri at my side; years of survival taught me and that you can never be too careful.  
"I guess you could say sat," he said with a close-lipped smile. His accent was light, and kind of strange - he hissed slightly. "You noticed me. More than I can say for everyone else here."  
I shrugged. "They're used to the fact that people don't usually live long out here. Name's Christian, by the way." I held out a hand.  
"Avery," he replied, returning the gesture in a brief handshake. "'ave you been 'ere long?" And casual banter like that continued well into sunset, him being somewhat perplexed when I mentioned that I'd managed to survive for almost an entire year. When I asked why, he changed the subject.

I didn't suspect anything until the real replacement Spy showed up almost a week later. And after that, I didn't see Avery for another few days. When I did, it was at the same spot, end of the dock. The circumstances were just different.

"_Bonjour_."  
I jumped, looking around for the source of the voice. He wasn't on either side or behind me. The answer to my confusion came, amused: "Try looking down." I did, and sure enough, he was staring up at me, everything from the bottom half of his torso down submerged under the water, shirtless.  
"Wot're ye doin' down there?" I asked, kneeling down. It was getting dark, too dark to see his eyes, but I could still see the slyness of his grin.  
"Swimming," he replied casually, crossing his arms on the dock.

I didn't return the smile. "You're not ours, are ye?"  
Water sloshed as he adjusted, sighing. "Non."  
My heart jumped. "So yer BLU," I accused, my hand resting on the sheath of my kukri.  
"So two-dimensional. Tell me, do you see any ozzer colors?" Before I could answer, he dove underwater.  
I waited for him to resurface before asking, "What are ye, then?"  
His lips split into a grin, and I finally saw his teeth: pointed, almost exactly like the band of dingo teeth I had wrapped around my hat. Leaning forward, his voice dropped dangerously as he purred, "Would you like to find out?"  
"Yo, Snipes!"  
I turned to look as Avery slipped away, under the water's surface.

I dreamed about him that night, just as he'd been in the water; shirtless, water droplets sliding down the contour of his face. I touched him, and felt scale instead of skin; black, giving a slightly blue shine when enlightened. He leaned in, whispering something that sounded like a series of hisses in my ear before, just like that, ripping out my throat with needle-like teeth.

Strangely enough, the dream gave me an odd sense of peace. I took out almost half of the BLU team with ease.  
"A natural killer," his voice said admiringly. It was later, at the dock once more. It was the only place he'd ever show up for me. I looked down at him, watching the water drip from his hair. "Just like me." He slid his hand against the dock, towards me. I took his wrist and noted his almost claw-like fingers.  
"Tell me," I requested quietly, looking at him through my sunglasses - it had been sunny that day.  
He blinked, the light from someone's window reaching just far enough for me to finally see his eyes. Colored a light orange, like the color of amber, with thin, slitted pupils, much like a cat who was staring into the sun. Then, he smiled, holding his other hand to me. "Close your eyes."  
I did, only after taking his hand. And, in an oddly comforting way, I considered them mine, at least for the moment.

We sat for a few minutes, and I wondered when he'd show me. After a while, though, I heard water sloshing below, and then I felt it. A wet coolness, brushing just lightly against my forehead as my sunglasses were lifted away, causing me to quickly open my eyes.  
He stared at me, my sunglasses dangling in midair, held up by a long, black tendril that writhed slightly when I looked at it. Another came to rest on the dock at my feet.  
I stated the obvious: "Tentacles."  
He nodded, smirking slyly as he swung the tentacle holding my sunglasses away from me as I tried to reach for it. "I sink you look better without zem, _mon cher__i_." I frowned at him, making futile attempts to steal my glasses back before deciding on another approach. Standing up, I stripped down to just my pants and dived in.  
It was nearly pitch black under the surface of the water, but I managed to wrestle the object away from him and surfaced with a gasp.  
We both started laughing, floating inches from dry land. I don't know why it didn't bother me; my closest companion was half octopus, for God's sake. I guess it was curiosity.  
"Come by whenever you want," he told me, stroking my cheek with cool, wet blackness. "Just call if you need me." The wink he gave me provided even more innuendo than the sultry way he said it. And then he was gone.

Adaptation, he told me it was. Along with some magic, he could become completely human, allowing him to mingle with me on the dock that first day, as well as some days that followed. He was the only one of his kind that he knew of.  
"Ya think there are more?"  
"Maybe."  
He's laying beside me on the dock now, one leg propped on his other knee and his hands tucked under his head. It's been two weeks since we've met, and he tells me that he's a product of a curse, that the Announcer is much more than a voice over a speaker. "The only good that came out of this is that I don't have to listen to _her_ twenty-four seven."  
I lean in and cut him off with a kiss. I don't know why I choose to do it then, but he doesn't fight. He pulls me closer, my fingers sliding around his neck to brush against the strip of scales that start at the nape of his neck and, as I learn later that night, continue all the way to the small of his back. Right where he stops being human.  
It's almost a whole hour before the smell of our mingling sweat finally starts to fade from the safety of my room. He rests his head on my chest, hair plastered to his forehead, and sighs blissfully. "I... forgot what sat was like," he says, his eyelashes fluttering against my skin. "And why you humans enjoy it so much."  
I look at him and ask, "'You humans'? Well, what does that make _you_, then?"  
He draws circles on my stomach and says, with a sudden melancholy: "I don't know."

Life hasn't changed a bit for me; I still fight five days a week, six hours a day. I'm still "the creepy, anti-social Aussie" that has nothing better to do than sit around with my eye glued to a scope.  
No one knows about Avery.  
He's still just a ghost, trapped under the dirty, murky water with nothing left to remind him of the life he once had.

Nothing but me.


End file.
